


ain't no man on earth

by abkvs



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F, Genderbend, Lingerie, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abkvs/pseuds/abkvs
Summary: Will she still like me when she sees me undressed?The bathroom door creaks open another few inches.Joan had told her that she had a surprise for her, but Michelle wasn't ready for… this. When Joan exits the tiny bathroom in lacy pink lingerie, Michelle's brain fries in an instant.





	ain't no man on earth

“This is embarrassing,” Joan whines from behind the cracked bathroom door. She peeks out, daring a quick glance at her girlfriend, who's lounging on the bed in boxer shorts and a ripped tank that doesn't leave much to the imagination. Michelle looks so casual out there, carefree, she thinks.

There's no way Joan could know that Michelle is just as terrified as she is, for the exact same reasons.

_ Will she still like me when she sees me undressed? _

It's a buzzing anxiety that runs through both of their minds.

While Joan looks down at the way her stomach hangs over her lacy panties, Michelle is fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, which hides less than she'd like—but for Joan, she's going to try to be brave. Joan doesn't need to be worrying about her issues, she thinks.

“You don't gotta, babe,” Michelle replies as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it's too soon. Maybe they shouldn't—

The bathroom door creaks open another few inches.

Joan had told her that she had a surprise for her, but Michelle wasn't ready for… this. When Joan exits the tiny bathroom in lacy pink lingerie, Michelle's brain fries in an instant.

She must be making one hell of a face, because Joan looks hurt and scared and little blue sparks are starting to fly and, oh, god dammit, she fucked it up again, Michelle thinks. So, she says the only thing that will come out of her mouth.

“Holy  _ fuck, _ Spots.”

The blue fades as the pink on Joan's cheeks begins to rise.

“Does it, do I, um, look, okay?” she asks, her words stuttered and meek.

“You're fuckin' gorgeous, babe.” Michelle has stars in her eyes, and how could she not? Everything on Joan's body is a soft pink not too far off from the light she's starting to emit. Every hem is topped off with intricate, flowery lace that hugs all of Joan's perfect curves in little cresting waves. The top has a little push to it that's pressing Joan's breasts together and up, and Michelle, good god, she feels under-dressed. She looks down at herself, in her old, torn up and sweat-stained clothes and feels a lump in her throat, but when she looks back up at Joan, God. She wonders how she got this lucky.

Joan is smiling again, that perfect freckled smile that pushes her cheeks into her eyes and lights up Michelle's world like a damn shooting star landed on her heart. Thank fuck, Michelle thinks. She didn't blow it.

Michelle reaches out, and when Joan doesn't flinch away, she closes the distance between their bodies. Everything about Joan is so soft, and her body presses and pools against Michelle's bony frame in a way that makes Michelle feel like they're two puzzle pieces stuck together just right. They click so easily.

“I'm glad you like it,” Joan whispers, even though they're completely alone.

“God damn, babe.” It's all Michelle can say, really.

Joan giggles. “Does it take your breath away?” she asks, a teasing dose of sing-song in her voice.

“That ain't all you do,” Michelle replies, her thumbs smooth over Joan's soft, blush-warmed cheeks.

“Oh yeah?”

Michelle wonders if Joan is intentionally pressing her breasts together with her forearms when she leans into her chest. She definitely can't tear her eyes away, and Joan doesn't stop her, so…

She goes for it.

Michelle's hands, until that point idle on Joan's hips, sneak back and over the lace to cup Joan's backside. When Joan gives a soft “mm” of approval, her grip gets a little firmer. When Michelle leans in to kiss her, Joan shoves her backwards, right down on the bed, laughing and still smiling that sunny smile. Michelle can't be upset, not when she gets to look at a face like that. Before she realizes it, she's laughing too. She opens her arms and Joan slots herself into them and allows Michelle to pull her down onto the bed, where they lay on their sides, chest to chest, nose to nose.

Joan's big, soft eyes gaze into Michelle's and Michelle can't find the words to describe the sight. She's so perfect, Michelle thinks as she drapes her lanky arm over Joan's waist. She goes for the kiss again, and this time, it lands. Joan's lips are as soft as Michelle's aren't, but Joan doesn't flinch away. Instead, Joan turns their chaste kiss into something much less so, pressing forward and fumbling to figure out how French kisses work. It's endearing. Joan's tongue is thick and clumsy; Michelle gives her space to learn, though, with her lips parted and her mouth inviting.

Michelle's chest is tight and burning and the tight grip Joan has on her hip tells her that Joan is feeling the same. This is happening. This is real.

“Damn,” Michelle whispers against Joan's wet lips when they finally part, gasping. Joan's round thighs are rubbing together and Michelle can't help but slip her thin, bony fingers between them. She revels in the way Joan sucks in a gasping breath. “Can I?” she asks. Joan nods, and then whimpers a second later, when Michelle's touch brushes against the soft fabric of her panties.

Michelle only barely knows what she's doing. She's had sex all of once, with a guy she dated years ago when she was trying to convince herself that she wasn't gay. The only thing she learned from that experience was that men think girls piss from their vaginas. This time around, being with Joan, (beautiful, perfect, flawless Joan), this is different, and not just because no dicks are involved. She wants to make her baby feel good. She wants to make Joan squirm and moan and drool all over her sheets; she wants to feel the muscles in Joan's legs tense around her head when she cums. She knows that Joan isn't judging her, grading her, but still.

It shocks Michelle to find Joan already shuddering and clinging to her shirt. All she's doing is rubbing her index finger against the soft dip in her pubic mound, but—  _ Wow. _ She can't help grinning. “Feel good, baby?” she coos. Joan butts her head against Michelle's chest, so Michelle presses a little harder. “Ain't no man on earth who can fuck you like I can.”

A whimpered, “Please,” is all she gets in reply.

“You're beautiful, babe,” Michelle whispers as she pulls Joan's panties aside. She feels soft pubes and softer skin underneath the fabric, along with a telltale dampness that she's eager to exacerbate. Just one finger pushes between the plush cleft of her pubic mound to seek out her clit underneath, and when she finds it, Joan's whole body seizes.

Michelle scoots down a little, kissing her way somewhat clumsily across Joan's skin. She pulls lace free from skin and plants her lips against Joan's soft, tender nipple with little hesitation. It always goes slower than that in romance novels (not that she's read any, she swears), but she's eager to make her baby writhe. And it works, too. Joan curls in and over Michelle's head, a soft, fluttering gasp escaping her.

Michelle rubs delicate little circles around Joan's clit, and Joan's thighs clench around her wrist in reply. Michelle grins and applies teeth to skin. Joan squeaks and gasps and suddenly, Michelle's hand is a lot wetter than before. Michelle doesn't stop.

“Did you cum, baby?” she whispers, her rough voice hot against Joan's skin. Joan whimpers in response, her head trembling up and down. Michelle grins. “I bet you taste real good,” she says, and revels in the clench of Joan's thighs around her hand. She flicks her finger across Joan's clit, and Joan melts, her thighs falling open. Michelle wastes no time planting her face between them.

Michelle reorganizes their frames so that Joan's legs are hoisted over Michelle's shoulders, her own body mostly off the bed and kneeling on the ground. As she presses her lips against Joan's crotch, nuzzling sweet kisses against the soft, curly hair there, Joan squeaks and shudders. Michelle just smiles, and lets her hot breath tease against Joan's sensitive skin as she uses her thumbs to pull the thick folds of her pubic mound apart. She groans, low and guttural as she drags her tongue from the lowest point of Joan's pussy all the way up to her clit: that beautiful, hypersensitive little nub. Joan squirms in response, fisting her hands into the bedsheets.

As she slides a finger over the tender little opening below Joan's clit, Joan whimpers. Michelle dips the very tip inside, and Joan practically seizes. "You like that, baby?" Michelle purrs. "How many fingers can you get in here?" She doesn't need to look to know that Joan is blushing furiously.

"O-only one," Joan whispers. "I… can't reach." The second part is even quieter, clearly full of shame.

It takes a moment for that to click, but Michelle looks from Joan's round, heavy stomach to her short arms and understands. Before the silence can spark anxiety, Michelle slides her slender finger inside to the second knuckle. "That's okay, Joanie. I'll take care of you," she whispers, so dirty yet so tender. She gently slides that digit in and out a few times, her pushes and pulls terribly slow, but oh so intentional.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay?" Michelle says, and she gets a jittery nod and an open-mouthed moan in response. Michelle is testing as she teases, paying more attention to her girlfriend's body in this moment than she's paid in school her entire life. She wants to know everything about what makes Joan whimper and moan, wants to know what she likes best better than Joan herself—because God, she's worth it.

Michelle looks up, over the round hills of Joan's body, to the curly black hair peeking out from behind her chest, slowly rising and falling with every shuddering breath. She traces white stretch marks and connects the dots of black freckles with her eyes, as if maybe she could memorize each and every one. Joan is so beyond beautiful. Then she closes her eyes and presses her lips against Joan's clit and sighs happily as Joan's pitchy moans pick back up again.

From here, she can feel everything: the way Joan's muscles clench in her belly and legs and groin, the way her thighs jump when Michelle hits a sweet spot. Michelle is rolling her hips a bit, but she hardly needs the stimulation. Just the thought of Joan's sweet, soft body beneath her fingers has made her cum hands free more than once, so this? This is euphoric.

Her tongue flicks Joan's clit as she pulls her lone finger out, and when she speaks, she only pulls her lips away as much as she has to. "Want to try two?" Michelle asks. Joan gives her a breathy, "Please," in reply.

Michelle teases in a second finger along with her first, taking it slow and careful. Joan's breath hitches, so she pauses, but a frantic "Don't stop!" has her back in motion not a moment later.

As she gets her two fingers in as deep as she can go, Michelle goes back to tending to Joan's little nub with her tongue, and just as she starts to scissor her fingers, Joan's body flinches, and Michelle finds her chin dripping with…

"Oh my god, you squirt," Michelle says, somewhere between deadpan and elated, her brain short-circuiting. She bites her lip and finally slides her hand down over he boxer-covered groin, the pressure all she needs right now. "God, baby, you're so hot…"

They're both shuddering and sweaty by the time Michelle gets herself off, Joan breathing in trembling bursts as the waves from her third orgasm roll over her. Michelle wipes her hands on the hem of the bedsheets, then pulls herself up next to her blissed-out girlfriend, gathering her in her lanky arms.

A little while later, when they're both finished napping in each other's embrace, Joan nudges her head against Michelle's collarbone. "Thank you," she whispers, little tears playing in the corners of her eyes.

Michelle yawns and drapes her leg over Joan's. "For what?"

"For—liking me," Joan replies. Michelle doesn't need to inquire further; she understands. The same thought is lingering on the tip of her own tongue.

_ Thank you for thinking I'm beautiful when I feel so ugly. Thank you for giving me what I thought I couldn't have. _

"Joanie, baby," Michelle coos, nuzzling a kiss into Joan's hair. "I love you." Joan squeezes her tighter, so she says it again. "I love you."

The smile on Joan's face is so sweet, so bright, that Michelle thinks her heart might burst. She wipes away the tiny tears on Joan's cheeks and kisses her forehead, and Joan whispers, "I love you too."

And God, that's all she needs.


End file.
